


a baseline mutual respect for bodily autonomy

by katplanet



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Bottom Diego Hargreeves, F/M, Impact Play, Pegging, Rough Sex, come get ur strap, nebulously post-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katplanet/pseuds/katplanet
Summary: "When'd you get in?" he asks her, throwing his coat on the couch next to hers. A nice visual."Couple hours ago. Have you showered at all in the past month?""Yeah, I had my annual scrub in the lake this morning.""Perfect. Get over here, I'm gonna fuck you until you cry.""Wow," Diego says, pulling his shirt over his head as he walks through the living room, "presumptuous."
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Lila Pitts
Comments: 18
Kudos: 86





	a baseline mutual respect for bodily autonomy

**Author's Note:**

> the mexican consulate dance scene is something that can be so personal

Diego gets home to the very noticeable smell of clove cigarettes. A leather jacket thrown over the back of his sofa, red boots in the middle of his kitchen. A dirty mug next to the sink. A big black briefcase on the coffee table.

"Hey," Lila yells from the bedroom.

"You're not supposed to smoke inside," he yells back, grinning as he toes his shoes off next to the door like a normal human being. "Don't get me fucking evicted."

Lila emerges, arms crossed over her chest, hair up in a ponytail that’s gone off center. She's wearing one of Diego's workout shirts, and it goes down to her knees like the world's worst dress. "We can find you a better flat than this, you know."

"I like this one. You like it, too."

"Yeah, I love places that don't let you put nails in the walls."

"When'd you get in?" he asks her, throwing his coat on the couch next to hers. A nice visual.

"Couple hours ago. Have you showered at all in the past month?"

"Yeah, I had my annual scrub in the lake this morning."

"Perfect. Get over here, I'm gonna fuck you until you cry."

"Wow," Diego says, pulling his shirt over his head as he walks through the living room, "presumptuous."

"I'll buy you dinner, after."

"Isn't that supposed to come first?"

"No, I come first. Then you get dinner."

"Oh, is that how it works."

Lila holds her arms open for him, and he shuffles into them, lets her wrap them tight around his waist and tug him in. It's been a week and a half, for Diego. Who knows how long, for her; maybe hours, maybe months. Probably closer to months, with the way she holds him, pushes her face into his shoulder.

"Missed you," he says, holding her right back, arms around her shoulders.

"Yeah," she says, voice muffled into his skin, "I bet you did."

"'I missed you too, Diego.' Thank you for that emotional vulnerability."

“C’mon,” she says, smacking his ass. “Take your pants off.”

“Are you gonna let go of me?”

“No.”

So he stuffs his hands between them, unbuttons and unzips, and wiggles his jeans down around his hips until he can kick them off his legs.

“There’s now a very unsubtle clothing trail leading to my bedroom,” he says into Lila’s hair. “Are you happy?”

“There’s always a clothing trail leading to your bedroom.”

“That’s laundry falling out of the basket. Totally different drop pattern.”

“Please come in here and let me shut you up.”

They do the thing where they walk into the bedroom while kissing, Diego walking forwards and Lila walking backwards, which looks so stupid in movies and also feels stupid to do in real life, except that it means he doesn’t have to stop hugging her yet. Not until they reach his mattress, pushed up against the back corner of the room, so much bigger than any other bed he’s had before in his life - not that that’s a high bar, he’d only ever had twins before this one. He’d bought them expecting to sleep in them alone.

Lila lies back on Diego's bed, his decadent queen bed, like it's hers, which - it basically is, at this point. Hers whenever she wants it. It's nice, how at home she looks, makeupless and messy-haired and wearing Diego’s workout shirt.

Wearing  _ only _ Diego's workout shirt.

She sees where he's looking and winks at him. "Go on, then."

Diego climbs onto the mattress after her and kisses up one of her long legs, pauses to nibble on her thigh until she grabs his hair and drags him where she wants him. He gets his mouth on her, and she sighs, drapes her calves over his shoulders and grinds down into his face.

He likes this about Lila, that she asks for what she wants, no dancing around it. He likes a lot of things about her.

She hums when he grabs her hips through his shirt, lets him pull her down into his mouth, onto his tongue. She's earthy on his lips even after he pulls away to breathe. He bites a mark into the soft skin at the very top of her thigh, somewhere she'll only see when she's alone, and then he dives back in, sucks her in long pulses while her pleased little noises get deeper.

She smacks the back of one of Diego's hands with her palm, and he takes it off her hip, tucks it under his chin so he can slide two fingers into her. She groans, jabs at his back with her heel. He curls his fingertips up, fucks her quick and deep, more of a rocking motion inside her than anything, and she bears down with her hips and  _ fights _ him even as she tries to kick him into going harder. He gives her a third finger, tongues her to the rhythm he's fucking her, and she must have gotten worked up waiting for him in his bed, in his shirt, because she yanks at his hair and heels him in the side of the head and clenches down on his fingers in waves.

"God," Lila sighs once she's shuddered through it, shoving Diego away with the sole of her foot on his shoulder. "This is why I keep you around."

"You're in  _ my _ apartment."

“Get up here. Get comfy.”

Diego gets up there, lies down on his back next to her, their heads on the same pillow. She links her leg over his and smiles at him.

“Can I?” she asks. “Fuck you, I mean.”

“Yeah. God, absolutely.”

He pulls her on top of him, kisses the taste of her back and forth between them. He arches his back, presses into all her curves, and she hums and lets him feel her up for a while. Her whole scrappy whirlwind caught between his hands.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” she says, leaning down over him. “Like, constantly.”

She’s sitting right on his dick, nothing but boxers between them, which inspires another set of very immediate thoughts, but Diego is getting on board with the whole good things coming to those who wait philosophy. He does a lot of waiting, and a lot of good things come to him.

So he says, “You gotta let it percolate a while longer, or what?”

Lila raises one of her perfect eyebrows at him. She pushes herself off him with her hands on his chest, crawls over to the bedside table, fumbles around in the top drawer. Throws their lube at him, and he lets it hit him in the arm just so he can pout at her about it. And then she shuts the drawer, knee-walks back to him with her hands full of what remains the ugliest goddamn dildo Diego has ever seen in his life.

He has no idea where she found this thing. She'd just rolled into his apartment one afternoon, thrown it on the bed, and stared him down until he'd managed to verbalize all the  _ hell yes _ happening inside his brain. It lives in the drawer spot of honor next to the lube now, and if Diego has developed a fucking neurochemical reaction to its specific shade of neon purple, that's nobody's business but his.

Lila tried to name it a few times, which was like watching an alien try to name a hamster. Diego vetoed all of them, so they just call it her cock.

Diego shimmies his boxers off and kicks them away while Lila hooks up her harness. It’s all, like, strappy and utilitarian, which is either catering to him or making fun of him. Probably both. Her cock looks ludicrous next to her skinny hips. Insurmountable. Diego’s mouth waters, for some reason.

Now would be the time for him to roll around and pretzel himself, if that’s what he was going to do, but he stays on his back. He’ll be able to look at her, this way. She’s so nice to look at. She smiles at him, when she’s all set up and he still hasn’t moved. Gets herself in between his thighs, and he wraps his legs around her, pulls her in, the warmth of her waist against his softest skin.

Lila puts her hand on his cheek, rubs her thumb over his bottom lip. "Nice or mean?"

"Mm. A little mean."

She pulls her hand back and slaps him immediately, which he should have seen coming.

"Fuck," he says, and she shoves two fingers into his mouth.

"You want mean?" she asks him, hooking her fingertips behind his bottom teeth, rattling his head around a little. "Tell me, babe."

Diego nods, closes his lips around her fingers and sucks, gets them slick. She pulls them out and smacks him again, open palm right on the cheekbone. The wet of his own spit gets on his forehead.

"Such a slut," she says, and her voice is so fond. It's the best tone of voice anyone has ever used to call Diego anything. Lila could call him a moldy loofah in that tone and he'd get all mushy over it.

She leans back, hoists one of his legs up over her shoulder, which leaves him - so exposed. Vulnerable. All the soft meat spots on his body neatly plattered for her.

And then she pushes in with her fingers, only Diego's spit to help. Harsh,  _ mean. _ Nothing Diego can't handle on any given day, but - she's done this to him enough times by now to pick up on the fact that he's maybe handling it even better than he normally would after a dry spell.

She grins at him, all her teeth, looms in like a sexy shark.

And listen, what Diego does in his own time with his own junk is his own prerogative. Lila knows that, he knows that she knows that. There's a baseline mutual respect for bodily autonomy between them that Diego really fucking values in a relationship.

If they both deliberately forget about all that at times like this, well. Sue them.

"You've been busy," she says into his ear, "haven't you? Can't leave me what's mine."

Diego feels the urge to fight bubble up in his chest. Considers it, like a second serving of dessert when he's already full. Lets it simmer back down. "Yeah," he says, instead. "Couldn't help it, baby."

She stretches her fingers apart. "You put my cock in you while I was gone?"

He swallows. Nods.

"Wasn't the same, was it?" She ducks down. Bites his collarbone, hard.

"Fucking  _ Christ _ \- no, Li, it wasn't."

"You know why? Because you think you know what you need," she says, and she digs the thumbnail of her free hand into the fresh bite mark. "But I know better."

She shoves into Diego all the way to the knuckle, hooks up inside him, and Diego lets out the kind of punch-drunk noise he usually only makes when he's in pain. It doesn't hurt, what she's doing, but it doesn't not hurt, either. And maybe he's got some fundamental wires crossed, because it's the not not hurting that makes his dick twitch on his stomach like Lila hit a buzzer in him.

"You need a reminder, sweetheart," she says, still smiling at him. Baring her teeth.

Lila fucks with her fingers. Fingerfucks. Diego's been on the other end of that plenty of times, no complaints from anybody, but he never really personally understood how it could be a thing, before Lila got to him. Never appreciated exactly how much the prelude could feel like the main event if you wanted it to. The kind of guys who wanted to top Diego tended not to get fancy with prep, which was more than okay with him, and the few girls who'd been adventurous enough to get up in his business saw it as, like, frosting on the blowjob cake. Which was also fine. It had all been fine.

And then there's Lila, who pulls out just long enough to lube up, then gets back in, three fingers, and just … absolutely rails him. Blitzes all higher functions right out of his skull. Vicious, like his prostate personally fucking insulted her or something. No breaks, no distractions, nothing but the muscles in her arms gone tense with effort, slick skin sounds between them, their eyes locked until he can't keep his open anymore.

"Can't do  _ this _ to yourself, can you?" she asks him, and she barely sounds out of breath.

He shakes his head. "Can't, uh - can't get the angle."

"You probably could, if you really wanted to," she says. "But even if you did, you couldn't fuck yourself like this. Tell me why."

"I don't know?"

"Yes, you do. Tell me."

"Because," he says, and then he has to take a second and actually compose a thought that isn't just,  _ golly, getting fingerbanged sure is swell. _ "Because I don't know what I need."

"Good boy," Lila says. He opens his eyes at that, and she's visibly trying not to laugh, because he's going to make so much fun of her for calling him a _good boy,_ later. That's later, though - he's gonna let her do it now, because she makes him absolutely fucking stupid.

"You," she continues, "think you know what you can take. What your limits are."

He'd tell her that yes, he does generally know those things about his own body, if he wasn't distracted by all three of her fingertips rubbing circles at the most agonizingly good spot inside him.

"But you need me to push you. Don't you, baby?"

She fans her fingers, maybe a little too fast to be comfortable, and Diego arches into it.

"And that," she says, pulling her hand out of him and smacking the inside of his thigh with it, "is why this is  my cock, not yours."

And she thrusts into him, just like that.

"Jesus," Diego shouts, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, holy  _ fuck, _ woman."

Lila grabs him by the jaw with her lube-free hand and steers his face, makes him look at her. "You feel that?"

"Are you kidding?"

She shoves his head down onto the pillow, hooks her index finger into his mouth. Rolls her hips, just once, and it hits Diego all the way up to his eye sockets. "That's what you need."

Diego nods, shuts his eyes again, mumbles, "Yeah, okay," as clearly as he can around her finger under his tongue.

Lila drags out slow, fucks in sharp. Makes Diego feel both the pull and the punch. There's no give to her cock inside him, no warmth, just resistance, space cleared for her. It would feel impersonal if she didn't use it like a weapon. She tears his body down like she built it, tilts her hips at the perfect angle to hit Diego where he needs it. And some days, she doesn't, some days she teases him, takes him apart that way, but today - today she's gunning for him with too much, too hard, too good.

He digs his heels into the mattress, braces his hands on the wall behind his head, and he takes it.

Because yeah, it's dirty talk, whatever, but Lila's not wrong. Getting himself off is great, he knows his body well enough to make it feel really fucking good, but it's  _ nothing _ like this. The steady, relentless drive into him, well past the point when his thighs start trembling, his abs start aching from the strain of holding his hips just right. And - and Lila, when he rallies enough to actually look down at her. Still in his big ugly shirt, half tucked into the waistband of her harness, smiling at him the way a whale smiles at plankton. Benevolent and devouring.

The shit his thoughts do when she's in them.

She takes her hand off his jaw, moves it down to the base of his throat. She doesn't push, neither of them are really into that, but it's the suggestion. The potential. The knowledge that if she really wanted to, she could.

"'M not gonna last," Diego tells her, now that there's not a finger in his mouth.

Lila somehow manages to shrug and look completely cavalier while also fucking his brains out. "Fine. You don't decide when we're done."

"Lord in heaven." Diego flops his head back on the pillow, arches his spine so she can really get deep. "You're gonna kill me."

"And what a way to go," she croons. Grabs his thigh with the hand not on his throat - the lube hand, ugh - and forces it up, wraps it around her waist. "Don't think I've ever done it nicer."

Diego groans, except it comes out kind of warbly, given how Lila is snapping down into him so hard that his organs are rattling in his ribcage. Every slide home feels like he's getting his spine pulled out through his neck, but like, in a good way. A sexy way.

He brings one hand down from the wall and runs it up her arm, from the heel of her palm on his collarbone up to her shoulder, her skin smooth underneath the sleeve of his shirt. He moves to her chest, cups her through the fabric, rubs his thumb over her nipple to make her lean into it, bite her lip. She rolls her head back, takes her hand off his leg to pull Diego's shirt up and off one of her arms, enough for him to see her abs working, her ribs, the soft curve of her chest.

Diego takes his other hand off the wall, because who cares if he gets pounded up the mattress and hits his head, certainly not him, and drags his nails over Lila's belly. "Fuck, baby."

"Yeah, that's the idea."

"I'm close," Diego says, because dear god, he is. Every sharp shock of pleasure, the ache already building between his legs. He's going to feel her in him for days.

Lila grabs his wrists in both her hands, pins them to the pillow on either side of his head. "Yeah? Want a hand?"

Diego flexes his abs. Concentrates. "In a sec. Can you-" And he twitches his head to the side, because words are going to start deserting him, soon. Better not to tempt fate.

Lila hums, lets go of his wrists. He leaves them where they are as she cups one hand around his cheek, steadies all the delicate moving parts of his face, brings the other up to her shoulder-

It's just a punch. A pulled punch, too, expertly on the right side of the line between good pain and actual damage. Diego got worse on the job before he even made it to puberty. But the way this feels, her hips hitting the backs of his thighs right when her knuckles land, her little exhale. The lag before the hurt, when all Diego feels is the rush of impact, a closed circuit.

"Yeah," he manages, "again."

She does it again, same side, same spot. He looks at her while she hits him, the dark pits of her eyes, the way she watches his face like she's a tornado chaser and he's a promising funnel cloud. Like she's fucking and threat assessing him at the same time.

"Touch yourself," she says, and then she punches him again, square on the round of his cheek.

Diego shoots a hand down between them, sets a rhythm to the pace Lila moves inside him. She's trading speed for force, depth, and the pulse between Diego's legs almost drowns out the blood throbbing in his face. In, up, out, down, like a machine. Like the chambers of a heart.

She hits him one more time, the other side of his face, and it's the fresh shock of pain that makes him come all over his fingers, every wave of it knocked out by Lila's cock inside him. She keeps going, so he does, too, rocks back into her and fists himself slick and wet, digging pleasure out of himself until it hurts, until his eyes are stinging and his jaw aches from clenching his teeth.

"That's my good boy," Lila says, and she's not laughing this time, not even close. Neither is Diego.

She fucks him until he pushes at her hip, weak with how sensitive he's gotten. And then she shoves in deep and stays there, grinds forward into her end of the strap, shuts her eyes and moans with it.

Diego grabs at her, gets his messy hand all over his shirt, her arm, her neck. "My face, c'mon."

"Yeah?" Lila rolls her hips, looks down at him hazy-eyed. "You want it?"

She pulls unceremoniously out of him, unbuckles her harness and throws it aside. Diego grabs her waist as soon as she's close enough for him to reach it, drags her up until she's kneeling over him on the pillow. She pulls his shirt the rest of the way off her, throws it in vaguely the same direction as the harness, and he runs his hands up her thighs, her belly, her chest. Everywhere he can reach, all her skin, just barely slick with sweat.

“Ask nice,” Lila says, even as she pushes into his touch.

“Please, baby.”

She grabs his hair in one hand and braces herself against the wall with the other, and settles herself down on Diego, just enough of her weight resting on him to make him feel it, pressure against the fresh tender spots on his cheekbones. She works her hips in circles, sharp pushes into his mouth, and he pulls out every dumb trick he knows, spells his fucking name with his tongue. She’s so wet, almost too wet for him to get any traction, but he does his level fucking best. It’s working, if the noises she’s making are any indication. They probably are. He’s never known her to fake enjoying herself for his benefit.

Diego has never known Lila to fake anything, really. Apart from - well. Okay. Not anything he cares about.

It’s easy to lose track of time like this, and he doesn’t fight it, just holds her and lets her ride him. He tries not to think words like  _ forever _ where Lila’s concerned, but this could go on for a while, indefinitely, and he’d be pretty happy. Like, he’s got nowhere else to be. Nobody else he wants making a throne of his face, or whatever.

He’d tell her he loves her, but, priorities. He’ll do it in a second.

Lila comes with Diego’s tongue drawing figure eights on her clit and makes a noise like she’s pissed about it, her eyes squeezed shut, forehead pressed to the wall next to her hand. She’s still got her other hand in Diego’s hair, and she fists it, pulls hard enough to go beyond stinging into actual pain. He grabs her by her hips and holds her still, keeps her working against his mouth until her legs stop shaking and her weight starts to sag too much for Diego to handle.

“I love you,” he says, as soon as she’s flopped off onto the mattress beside him.

“I love you, too, you demon,” she groans. “You fucking … bone-crunching vulture.”

“What?”

“Bearded vulture. You gave me beard burn.”

“I’m not sorry.”

Lila rights herself enough to sprawl her limbs out all over Diego, bony joints digging into every soft part of his body. He pulls her closer, until her elbow starts running the risk of perforating his spleen, and then he pulls her even closer than that.

“Was that enough mean?” she asks him.

“Exactly the right amount of mean.”

“Good. You’re so cute. It’s like when you see a baby animal and you just want to eat it.”

“Please don’t eat me.”

“No promises.”

Diego kisses her, slow and sweet. She nibbles at him when she pulls back, then licks along his lips.

“Your scruff is damp,” she says.

“Yeah, wow, wonder how that happened.”

“Shower?” She props herself up on the elbow currently drilling into Diego’s vitals. “And then delivery.”

“I want thai,” Diego says.

“Oh, good idea.”

“Not the only good thing about me.” Diego bats his eyelashes at her, and she cackles, throws his boxers in his face.

“Fuck off,” she says, fishing his workout shirt out from the sheets, “you love it.”

“It’s so dumb.”

“Every time. You love it every time.”

“Yeah, I’m dumb, too.”

Lila gives him a look, crawls up to kiss him again. “That’s how I like you. Now come wash my hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”


End file.
